CurSwain: A TribeTwelve Fanfic
by Nellie Fauste
Summary: Can you spot the EMH references? To tell you the honest truth, I'm not too proud of this one. I don't believe it truly captures the relationship between "the lover" and "the selfish", but I'll let you be the judge of that. As usual NSFW, etc.


She stood back, admiring her work. The bags were filled with entrails and tied into the thin saplings. Cursor knew that the Keeper would be pleased. As she licked the leftover blood from her fingers, she fantasized about what the future had in store. She knew her session was reaching its end. Cursor turned off the path and began her trek through the thick underbrush, her ragged dress flowing behind her, catching and tearing on branches as her bare feet padded across the carpet of dead leaves.

A twig snapped behind her. Cursor turned to see her intruder, blade at the ready. She was greeted by a familiar sight. _Swain_. The masked man cocked his head as though he heard her realization. Cursor had begun to find the daunting mask comforting, a faithful, silent friend. She approached him slowly.

Swain reached out. Cursor leaned into him, taking in his sickly sweet smell of decaying driftwood. He slid his hand down, grasping hers, sliding the blade from her grip to his. She smiled as she raised her head to look up into the dark mask holes that were his eyes. Cursor ran her hand through Swain's thick, black hair. She imagined he was smiling down on her, returning her pleasant gaze.

Swain stroked the side of her face with gentle hands. She lifted herself up on her toes, brushing her lips across the open mouth of his mask. She felt his muscles tense in restraint.

"It will be okay, my love," she whispered, pressing her face against the side of his mask in a reassuring embrace. Swain relaxed, his hand wandering to the curve of Cursor's back, pulling her closer. She laced her hands around the back of his neck, kissing his sinister mask passionately. He craned his neck towards her.

Using the blade he had taken from her earlier, Swain sliced down the back of Cursor's bloodstained dress. She let the ragged fabric fall off her shoulders and come to rest on the forest floor. Swain stepped back, admiring the contrast of her small, pale body on the dark forest backdrop.

"Your turn," Cursor beckoned playfully as she watched Swain promptly obey. The two travelled deeper into the forest, Cursor revealing the way. She led him to the spot in which she had played butcher to prepare her little display.

They stood in the thickest part of the woods, the ground littered with carcasses of various species. There was blood splattered everywhere, from pools on the forest floor to tear-shaped droplets trickling off the leaves.

"I made a bit of a mess, didn't I?" Cursor pouted, taking in the view. She noticed Swain's breathing speed up. "I think you'll agree that it's a little romantic…" She reached up to remove his mask.

Swain emitted a low growl and grabbed her roughly by her hair, startling her hands away from the mask. He pulled her towards him, restraining her against his chest as he forced her to look deep into the eyes of his mask. An unusual fear sprang from within Cursor's throat, and tears came to her eyes as Swain pushed the lips of his mask violently against hers. She had no choice but to kiss them back.

He pushed her away. Cursor hit the ground hard, a frightened squeal escaping her lungs. Swain had never been like this before, so cruel, so sadistic… At least not towards her…

Swain was upon her now, his powerful grip tightening around her wrists, which he roughly held above her head. He positioned himself between her slender limbs, slightly lifting her bottom off the hard forest floor.

Cursor let out a wail of Rake-like proportions as Swain entered her, his thin cock glistening with her blood and moisture. She bucked her hips excitedly against him as he struggled against his own throes of pleasure to continue her captivity. Surrendering to Cursor's promised gift of bliss, he worked with her motions, letting her arms loose to allow her to reposition herself. They released their newfound pleasure verbally, filling the still, quiet forest with Cursor's moans and Swain's growls.

Finally, with a collective sigh, the couple collapsed into the dirt. Cursor felt the leftover blood slowly soaking her hair.

Trapped beneath Swain's panting body, she swiftly maneuvered her arms free. She hastily removed his mask, and stared into his deep blue eyes.

"I love you."

"_Je t'adore_."


End file.
